


Of Monarchs and Severed Heads

by Medie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen of England was <em>sitting on his bloody sofa</em>, his mug in her hand, drinking tea, apparently in the midst of a lively discussion with Sherlock on the matter of severed heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monarchs and Severed Heads

**Author's Note:**

> Written last year and forgotten about until A Scandal in Belgravia. Apologies to certain real life monarchs, but it seems Queen Victoria just refuses to surrender her favorite detective.

John Watson had been having an absolutely _brilliant_ day. Which is, of course, to say it was second only to the one where Jim sodding Moriarty had tried to blow John and Sherlock to kingdom come.

Only just second, though. One more thing and he thought even that might be eclipsed. Just one more.

John stepped through the door and stopped dead.

The Queen was sitting on the sofa.

The Queen of England was _sitting on his bloody sofa_ , his mug in her hand, drinking tea, apparently in the midst of a lively discussion with Sherlock on the matter of severed heads. Christ. This was impossible. Sherlock was having tea with the Queen in their flat while debating the most efficient methods of beheading. 

Part of John was distantly amused that Sherlock did indeed have opinions as to the proper method of beheading. The rest of John remained soundly focused upon the Queen in trousers, a pale blue jumper, drinking tea from his mug without so much as a feather in her hair. 

The gossip rags would be aghast with horror. Severed heads were one thing, Queen Victoria II sitting in a flat as plain as plain could be? Truly horrifying and he was being completely ridiculous, but in his defense, John believed himself justified. After all, he had just come home to find a monarch on his sofa.

Queen Victoria on his sofa. Right, so that would be the one more thing then. Dear Jim had officially been demoted to second banana. One just couldn't beat the Queen. Especially not when she, apparently, enjoyed bickering with his flatmate over tea whilst her security glowered quietly from the corners.

John felt ill.

"Ah, there you are, John," Sherlock said. Calm. The bastard was _calm_. Of course he was calm. Sherlock and Her Majesty probably had a standing engagement to discuss dismemberment and the occasional potential overthrow of a government (possibly her own, should the Prime Minister vex her) over tea and sandwiches. "We were wondering." 

He offered up a little smile――the sort that said he was enjoying John's blatant horror _immensely_ and would for days to come―and gestured to the woman at his side. "Might I introduce Queen Victoria the Second? Victoria, this is Dr. John Watson, formerly Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

With a smile, Victoria nodded. "Quite lovely to finally meet you, Doctor."

Great.

Sherlock was on a first name basis with _Queen Victoria_. 

John paled just a little more. Of course Sherlock would be. Sherlock did all sorts of things like that, but then when one felt free to discuss beheading with one's monarch, her first name was probably a foregone conclusion. 

"He's rather pale, isn't he? And quiet. Is he always this quiet?" Victoria asked, looking at Sherlock with some consternation. 

"Only when heads of state turn up in his flat." Sherlock leaned forward. "More tea?"

"Yes, please," she looked at John. "So this sort of thing happens often?"

"Around me?" Sherlock interrupted. "Surprisingly, yes."

Victoria made a humming noise. "Mycroft hadn't mentioned that."

"I thought not," Sherlock said, gleeful, as if he were imagining all the possible ways Victoria might exact vengeance on his elder brother. John let himself think about that for a moment and likely paled even further as Sherlock added, "Do send my regards."

"You know it's unseemly for you two to get on the way you do," she said, taking her cup back.

"They prefer it that way," John managed.

"I suspected as much," Victoria sighed. "Ridiculous, really, but then I suppose if they were on the same side, the world might never stand it."

John wondered if it would be impolite to fling oneself out a window in front of one's queen. Probably. He imagined his former commanders would have been mortified to know he'd even entertained the thought. 

Wankers. They'd never been in his shoes had they? Queen. Sherlock. _Severed heads_.

Sherlock looked at Victoria with some annoyance and she responded to the glower with a little laugh. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Sherlock," she said, picking up a sandwich from the plate. "It isn't as if I'm wrong. I'll never understand the way you two treat each other." 

"And yet you delight in teasing him," Sherlock said. "Why is that?"

She smiled. "He likes to play at being afraid of me. How can anyone resist that?"

Sherlock smirked at that. "Point." 

Watching them, John briefly considered fainting. Under no circumstances could this possibly, _possibly_ end well.

"Right, well, I am so terribly sorry about turning up like this," Victoria said, her features taking on a look of chagrin. "I'm sure you two had a lovely evening in planned and then up I turn, hat in hand, looking for help."

"Evening in?" John echoed.

"Oh yes, you've no cases on, nothing pressing at work, of course it's an evening in. It's quite all right, Doctor Watson, Sherlock's told me all about you and I think it's quite brilliant." 

John shot a look Sherlock's way, getting an studiously innocent look in response. Dead. The man was absolutely _dead_. The Queen of England thought― "I'll make it up to you both, I'm sure. A weekend somewhere lovely once this is all said and done." She looked at Sherlock. "I would've called, but Sherlock does so hate coming to the palace."

Sherlock looked annoyed. "You know how _he_ gets about it."

Victoria smiled. It was an indulgent sort of thing and John, again horrified, found himself imagining just what sort of shenanigans Sherlock and Mycroft could get up to involving the _Queen_. Christ. "We wouldn't have to tell him. I am quite capable of keeping secrets from your brother, you know."

"He'll _know_ ," Sherlock insisted, mulish. 

Victoria shook her head, turning amused eyes on John. "Do you have siblings, Doctor Watson?"

"One, Your Majesty," he replied, still feeling quite, well, yes, very ill. Absolutely very ill. If he threw up at this moment and made his humiliation complete, Sherlock was going to suffer in an incredibly vicious and inventive fashion. Well, assuming, that was, John survived this in one piece. "A sister." A sister who'd adored the woman in front of him for years. Had kissed her portrait every night right up until uni. Possibly still did.

"Good," Victoria said, "As I've none, those two are a complete mystery to me. Perhaps you might explain?"

"No, really not," John sighed, sinking into a chair. There wasn't much else which could be done. She was real. Breathing. Here. And Sherlock _knew her_. Ergo, she wasn't going away and he was just going to have to deal with it.

Lucky thing, then, that he wasn't shagging Sherlock. He'd do more than make him sleep on the couch for _this_. He remembered that first conversation quite well and at no part had mentions of impromptu visits from _royalty_ come up. 

"No?" She sighed. "Damn."

John helped himself to a cup of tea and willed his hands not to shake as he did so (scalding the Queen would not his finest hour make). "If we started with something easier? Cold fusion, perhaps?"

Laughing, Victoria shook her head. "Later. You two do have that evening and I've a daughter to get back to, so―" She reached into a bag at her feet, presenting Sherlock with a file. "There is a small matter of concern."

She cast a glance at John. "However, sometime in the future, you and I should have that chat." 

Dredging up his courage, John shot a grin at Sherlock that was almost mutinous. "Oh, yes, _absolutely_."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Monarchs and Severed Heads (madman in a blue box remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/378278) by [coloredink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink)




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